April 7, 2011
It's not that I really wanted to teleport myself somewhere. It's not that I even needed to. But something about having the option, the technology right at my fingertips, made me feel a little bit more like myself. That girl I used to be got flushed down a 2009 toilet.
The tweezers were inching their way toward a wire when a loud bang on my bedroom door caused me to drop them right into the gorilla glue I had just squirted onto the wooden base board.
"Hey, Midget…Let's go!" Jackson shouted through the door.
I scrambled around the carpet, snatching a red shirt from the floor and tossing it over my project. "Just a second."
The entire baseboard fit neatly under my bed and then I was on my feet, flinging the door open before Jackson could knock again. And yeah, he and Kevin would wonder what crazy science experiment I had been working on lately, but I didn't have to worry about them figuring it out until it actually looked like something more than a pile of sticks, wires, and metal. Which wouldn't be for a long time…a very long time.
Jackson's eyes were already narrowed, looking me over as I breezed past him toward the kitchen. "Don't think I'm not suspicious of the fact that I'm up and ready way before you this morning…I'm just not gonna ask questions and ruin your first day of school. Consider yourself lucky."
I groaned as I reached for a banana from the bowl on the counter. "I almost forgot."
"Nervous?" he asked, stealing half my banana as we walked toward the front door.
"Very."
Jackson and Kevin were both really serious about me learning everything they'd had to learn…about being a spy, self defense, government history. And I loved all of it, including the five thirty in the morning PT sessions. But there were two big things I hadn't learned yet: 1) how to shoot a gun 2) how to blend in with present day society. So today, began my socialization training which involved high school. More specifically, Jackson's high school…and Courtney's.
Only in the past few months, had I even started going out to normal places, surrounding myself with regular people. Even that made me nervous that I'd say or do the wrong thing and I always had Jackson or Kevin with me to cover whatever slip up had happened.
At school, I'd be on my own.
"So, what's your story, Emily Meyer?" Jackson drilled as we started on our usual jogging path.
"Emily Meyer…transfer Freshman…living with my uncle and cousin for an undetermined about of time. My parents are professors and on sabbatical in…Nepal," I recited, matching my step perfectly with Jackson's. For some reason it fascinated me that we could have the same DNA, same fingerprints, and when we ran together, our pace could match perfectly. We had the same endurance capabilities, but Jackson's male…so, he's naturally got more muscle. But other than that, we matched.
"Nepal this time?" he said smiling at our feet as they pounded the pavement identically.
"I can't decide…maybe I'll go with Turkey?"
"I bet you could make a lot of friends teaching kids to swear at teachers in Nepalese," Jackson said. "But maybe not on the first day…and I'll pick you up after school. You can go with me to the airport."
My stomach started twisting in knots, but I couldn't clearly define why. Might be a number of reasons. "Can't you just send a car to get Holly?"
He shrugged. "I'd rather do it myself."
I wasn't sure what to say or how to react, exactly. Holly had been in Europe for nearly a year, doing her own version of spy training along with college courses. Jackson had been to visit her five times and she came home for Christmas, but I didn't even see her then. Kevin and I went to Florida for a vacation (mission) and when we came back, she had already left for Prague.
If I was willing to get on an airplane, I could have gone with Jackson to see Holly—could have seen Europe. But that would require overcoming my intense phobia of things not attached to the ground. I also wasn't sure how I felt about Holly being around all the time now. Is that why Jackson and Kevin wanted to send me to school? So he could spend more time with her and keep me busy in the process?
And honestly, I had nothing against her…I'd been very close to the other Holly…the one infected with the virus. This Holly, the one working to become a spy, knew about me, knew about Jackson and time-travel. She even knew that Jackson had met her previous to their first meeting in this universe, in September of 2007. But the one thing that bugged me, ate at my insides whenever she was around, was the fact that she didn't (doesn't) know the sacrifices Jackson had made for her, all those versions of her. She had no idea what he'd done to keep her alive and he'd never tell her or let me tell her.
When I asked him about it once, he just said, "It might influence her for all the wrong reasons."
So I kept my mouth shut and that made it hard to be close to Holly.
"She's excited to see you," Jackson said, breaking the nearly twenty minute silence. "I told her she'd hardly recognize you…what with the huge growth spurt and giant boobs you've acquired in the last year."
Jackson was being sarcastic. I'd grown exactly three centimeters since the last time I'd seen Holly and gained, maybe four kilos…none of that weight landed in my almost completely flat chest. And as for the whole menstrual cycle thing—non-existent.
Which meant Dr. Melvin started doing test after test to make sure everything was working properly and that I was actually a girl (which I am). I think Jackson secretly hoped I'd never hit that phase of life. He acts like he knows I'm a girl…that I'll look more like Holly someday, but I think he'd rather keep things how they are right now. Typical big brother attitude…so I've heard.
"The average fifteen year old does not have 'giant boobs,'" I pointed out. The truth was, I didn't know what I thought about the growth issue. For me, stages of life were just science and numbers in a book...statistics reflecting data collected from members of the human race. It wasn't until I watched Jackson and Kevin squirm as Dr. Melvin explained his concerns with my development that I began to think it might be an awkward subject in 2011. Although, I should have guessed this when Kevin sent me to the store with Rosa, the housekeeper, to buy a bra. They almost never let me go anywhere without one of them. Not that I minded.
School would be a big step for all of us.
A rustle in the bushes ahead caught my attention. The only thing more exciting than jogging through Central Park was watching (and listening) for potential threats. I kept my face and heart rate calm as we trotted past the bush, but then I immediately felt the presence of someone landing on the sidewalk behind me. I spun around fast as the unidentified figure lunged toward me.
Ducking down was statistically my best option, judging the distance and estimated weight of my attacker. He soared over my head, shoes thudding against my lower back.
"What the hell?" Jackson said.
But I knocked him out of the way, pressing my foot into the man's chest and pinning his arms over his head. He was breathing hard, but strained. My focus was so narrowed on the attacker that I didn't even noticed Kevin approaching my left side.
"Nice work, Emily! Perfect execution and you never showed one indication of fear when you first heard him in the bushes."
I glanced over at Jackson, who was now clutching his chest. "Damn, Dad! Give me a little warning next time you throw a test her way."
I gave the fake attacker a weary look before releasing him and stepping backward. "Sorry. I'm sure that hurt."
The agent scrambled to his feet shaking his head. "No apologizing. You performed beautifully. You're ready for the real thing, kid."
Kevin laughed at Jackson's expression and then pointed to another set of bushes in the distance. "We've got two more trainees to test. How about we let Emily go back home and get ready for school and you can jump a few unsuspecting newbies?"
Jackson nodded and then called to me as he walked away, "See you after school, Em."
Our building was just across the street. They had nothing to worry about. But I could still feel Kevin watching me until I entered the front doors. When I walked through the apartment door, Rosa the housekeeper was there ready to pounce on me almost as bad as the fake attacker a few minutes ago.
Several hangers with clothes dangling from them were clutched in one of her hands, a hair brush and plaid bow in the other hand. "Let's go, young lady…in the shower! You'll be late."
After I got out of the shower, Rosa set plates of pancakes, eggs, bacon and fruit in front of me (I ate about three bites) while she braided my hair.
"I remember when my Marissa wore this same uniform…that Kevin Meyer, he's a great man, isn't he?" she babbled as she held a red plaid pleated skirt out for me to put on.
I'd heard this story over a dozen times. Her daughter (who was now in medical school in California) went to Loyola Academy before Jackson and Courtney were ever there. And Kevin helped Marissa get a scholarship because apparently the tuition costs, "two arms and two legs," Rosa liked to say, whatever that meant.
This morning wasn't all that different than any other mornings. Rosa picked out my clothes almost everyday. I just wore whatever she laid out. It didn't matter to me because where I came from a computer did that job for everyone and chose items based on functionality. Rosa's choices mostly seemed to have functionality in mind. Actually, where I came from, computers and electronic devices did a lot of the things Rosa did.
She handed me a white blouse and then once I had it on and buttoned, she tucked it into my skirt and pulled a long sleeve red sweater with the school logo in the corner, over my head. I held still as she fished for the rounded edges of the blouse collar and smoothed them over the sweater, so they rested on top. The sweater was hot and itchy, the giant plaid bow in the center of my braid weighed a ton and the white knee socks felt just like the sweater except the itchy prickles crawled up my legs. The shiny black dress shoes pinched my toes and I could already feel blisters rubbing themselves into my heels. I guess this was what real spies did—suffer for their work.
"You look beautiful!" Rosa said as she handed me the red plaid backpack that she had sewn herself from the same material as my uniform skirt. It was my favorite part of the school-girl-cover-look and I had loved watching her work the sewing machine, knowing how it could go on its own with only a few slight modifications. And she still put all that effort into the project, just for me.
In the car, on the way to Loyola, I decided Rosa was just as nervous as me because she checked my backpack three times to make sure I had my sack lunch and class schedule as well as a map of the school (which I'd already memorized). I knew Rosa had an official government clearance, but she always seemed like a regular person. Like a frumpled mother who devoted so much time to her children and her work that she was lucky to get herself showered and dressed in the morning, let alone spruced up with fancy hair and make up. I'm always immediately suspicious of anyone who looks perfectly put together. Therefore, I trusted Rosa almost as much as Kevin and Jackson.
That's what I had to keep reminding myself as I walked through the halls of high school…my high school. The volume was louder than anything I'd ever heard created by humans. Red plaid skirts were everywhere. I knew this mostly because I was too afraid to lift my eyes much higher than skirt level. I could also see legs covered in dark pants—boys. And they all had navy blazers and red striped neck ties.
Jackson had shown me pictures of him from his school days. So, I wasn't surprised, just completely unsure about who or what to look at. The only thing I could focus on was following the map, now etched in my head, to my first class—English. Freshman English.
The room was nearly full when I walked in and two dozen heads turned to stare at me. The teacher in front, a younger man with glasses and a tie, looked up at me and nodded, "Our new student, Emily Meyer, right?"
"Yes," I said, keeping my eyes on him while feeling the burn of forty eight eyes on me. I dug my nails into my palm, fighting the urge to bend over and scratch my itchy legs. "And you're Mr. Lawson, right?"
Oh no…maybe I wasn't supposed to know that? Did typical freshman students memorize their teachers' names, social security numbers and complete medical history prior to the first day? Probably not.
Mr. Lawson did look surprised and stuttered, "Yes, that's correct. Take any empty seat you like. We're reading Romeo and Juliet. Act II, scene five."
I slid into the second desk from the window in the second row. A girl with long blond hair and way too much make up sat up straighter when I set my bag near her feet.
"Nice socks," she mumbled under her breath and her and the other blonde beside her giggled loudly.
I could tell she hadn't meant that in a nice way and my cheeks burned, but I couldn't do anything about it now…and actually, looking around at the other girls, none of them had socks like me…none of them had shoes like mine. They all had some sort of clunky heels and panty hose which probably itched worse than knee socks. And nobody had a sweater on. The girls had shirt tails hanging out and blazers over them. The same blazers the boys wore except the boys all had their shirts neatly tucked in, like mine. I knew because the assistant principal had ordered a boy to do this in the hallway a few minutes ago. The rule seemed to be enforced if you were male, but not female.
If I un-tucked my shirt now, everyone would see me. Maybe it was better to act like it didn't bother me, or at least like I hadn't noticed.
"Emily," Mr. Lawson said, turning toward me while my face was still aflame. "Tell us where you hail from, what brings you to Loyola mid semester?"
"Uh…I'm staying with my Uncle Kevin…my parent's are in Ne—Nepal."
The girls behind me snickered. I sunk lower in my chair and tuned out the rest of Mr. Lawson's very slow paced lesson.
The rest of the day went just like the first class. No one spoke to me except the teachers…other kids spoke about me, purposefully within ear-shot of me, and at least one person snickered when I told my story about my parents being in Nepal. By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to throw up the two bites of lunch I ate outside, far away from the cafeteria.
The second I walked down the front steps of the school, I spotted Jackson, leaning against his dark blue sports car. I made it to the bottom of the stairs before a group of older girls blocked my way. One of them touched the bow in my hair and I shrunk back.
"That is so classic," she sneered. "Where did you get this?"
Another girl touched my backpack. I tugged it away from her, holding it tight against my chest before stepping quickly past them.
The bow grabbing girl saw Jackson waving at me and said to her friends, "Why is it always the freaks who have hot older brothers?"
I went from nauseous to fuming by the time I stood in front of Jackson. He removed his sunglasses, eyes wide, looking me over.
"Oh God, Em, what are you wearing?"
That was the final straw for me. Tears stung my eyes and I ripped the bow from my hair and thrust it at his chest then jumped into the car, slamming the door shut.
Jackson got in quickly, resting his hands on the steering wheel before turning to look at me. "Emily-"
"Just drive," I said, pressing my face against my knees. "They're still watching us."
I was so grateful for his quick response and for the five minutes of silence he gave me to calm down and keep myself from crying all over his car. By the time I looked up, we were on the highway, heading toward the airport.
"That bad, huh?" Jackson said, finally.
"Worse…so much worse. Why didn't you tell me how awful high school is? Did you think it'd make it worse to know in advance?" I watched his face carefully. His mouth opened then closed again as he searched for an answer.
"Well, it wasn't all that bad for me," he admitted. "But I was young and stupid and that seems to work better with average teenagers than brilliant and from the future."
"No kidding."
He rubbed the back of my head and smiled. "We'll figure it out, okay? No worries."
Then Jackson took my giant hair bow and attached it to the rearview mirror and I had to laugh.
"Can we please burn it?" I asked.
He nodded. "I'll supply the matches."
My mood improved dramatically after imagining setting the retched bow on fire. I even asked Jackson to buy me a giant ice cream sundae while we waited near baggage claim for Holly. I was starving since I had hardly eaten breakfast or lunch. My observant, extra sensory Jackson meter noticed several things in the forty five minutes that we waited: 1) he didn't touch his ice cream 2) he checked his watch and cell phone way too many times for someone who could estimate minutes passing better than the average CIA agent 3) he kept running his fingers through his hair and glancing around while I talked.
"Why are you so nervous?" I asked. "Is something going on? Another test?"
"No…no test, it's just…it's April," he said as if this should answer my question. "I haven't seen her since Christmas. And it's a lot harder to wait forty five minutes than I thought."
"Oh." I dropped my spoon into the dish and quickly changed the subject. "So, did you buy lunch in the cafeteria in high school?"
"Always." He snatched up both our dishes and tossed them into a garbage can. "Let Rosa pack your lunch and then get rid of it when you get to school."
See? This is exactly the kind of thing book smart kids never think of…exactly why today was so horrible.
"There she is," Jackson said tugging my sweater sleeve.
Sure enough, Holly was trudging through customs, getting her passport stamped. She spotted Jackson the second she stepped through the gate and immediately dropped her backpack onto the ground, leaving it there.
I quickly retrieved it before somebody planted a bomb or a listening device. I mean, seriously? Hadn't she just been through agent training? That was as beginner as it got.
I watched, with her bag now slung over my shoulder, as she jumped into Jackson's arms, literally. He didn't even stumble or stagger backwards, just picked her up as if she weighed nothing. Her legs wrapped around him and they were clinging to each other like it was the end of the world.
But it wasn't. I should know. I'd seen the end of the world…several versions of it. I'd seen Jackson kiss Holly goodbye—the kind of goodbye that was forever. And that Holly was so strong…so strong she could actually let go of him. I wasn't even sure I could have done that. This Holly was nearly in tears during their reunion even though she'd spent the last four months talking to Jackson on the phone and emailing daily.
Somehow, it was hard to muster up much emotion for what she'd been through. I'd take a four month separation from my own version of Romeo over one day of high school. Over today, my only day of high school.
Jackson finally set Holly down and kissed her on the mouth. She let go of him and stepped toward me, hugging me briefly. I stiffened, but hugged her back.
"How are you, Emily?"
I chewed on my thumb nail and mumbled, "Good. How was your flight?"
Holly rolled her eyes and then launched into an elaborate story about crying babies and an old man trying to smoke something in the bathroom. This went on as we retrieved her bags and got into the car. I tuned her out, mostly and watched Jackson all the way home.
He looked so happy, so complete. I felt all kinds of things just seeing him like that—jealousy, emptiness, awe, curiosity. All this time, I thought having someone as close as Jackson in my life would be enough…he's like a brother but even more than that. Now, I couldn't help thinking whatever made him look at Holly like that was something I might be missing out on.